I am... Able.

I was a carnival, 

but I was the part that didn't sing, 

that didn't glow, 

that didn't twist or swirl or dance. 

I saw spiders, spiders in my eyes. 

I felt goblins tugging at my toes. 

Have I been sculpted by the hands of the careless? 

Papa thought I was a leech, 

but I only tried to be translucent. 

Humanity seemed to have no restraints. 

They poked at the crippled, 

and gawked at the blind. 

I fought for my place, 

my place as a ghost. 

I am not a craven child any longer, 

I have torn off my shame. 

You loved me like you loved the sun. 

You heard my voice crack as it got harder, 

harder to maintain honesty, 

clarity, 

certainty. 

Even after all this time, 

I find myself waiting for you, 

knowing that you're gone. 

Although it's tough to face their scalding eyes, 

I know I can make it on my own. 

I will never retreat to my reclusion. 

I'm not that kind. 

It's not my time. 

This poem is about: 
Me

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